


Never Lose a Bet to Na Jaemin

by ImJaebabie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, This Is STUPID, mild cross-dressing, my last two braincells demanded this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-02 09:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJaebabie/pseuds/ImJaebabie
Summary: Renjun loses the bet. Jaemin loses his shit. Jeno loses his cool. But with Renjun in his present state, perhaps Jaemin and Jeno win just a little.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to you all that more Symbiote!NoRenMin is on it's way, just taking longer because _man_ there's stuff to do there, but in the meantime...have this. Because my last two braincells wouldn't shut UP until I wrote it. Now I'll get back to work on "Jeno & Hide," I prommmmise you.

Jaemin’s grin couldn’t be wider if his mouth was being pulled from both corners. Slightly behind him, Jeno keeps his mouth covered with one hand, leaning against the wall for support and looking very red, though his gaze never wavers. Their focus is the same, as always, although a little more fixated than perhaps usual.

“One day, I will get you both back for this,” threatens Renjun, tugging uselessly at the material sitting high over his thighs. The effort is futile: if he pulls it lower, the upper end of the material sinks further from his collar, revealing more splotchy red, blushing skin. If he adjusts it higher over his chest, immediately more sheer-stocking-ed thigh shows. The fake wings aren't exactly fun to wear either, with the straps that rub on his shoulders and underarms every time he moves. 

“I don’t doubt it,” breathes Jaemin, with absolutely no hint of fear in his voice.

Jeno shakes his head slowly. “Not gonna lie. I already feel like I deserve to be punished for this. And not in the hot way. In the like…’this was forbidden but, like fools, we did it anyway, and now we deserve death’ way.”

The laugh from Jaemin confirms that he disagrees, that this is exactly what he wanted. He’s positively gleeful.

Renjun frowns darkly. “I’m gonna change back. This sucks.” He barely moves an inch before Jaemin stops him, hand taking his wrist.

“You promised.” Jaemin’s eyes are intent, disappointment turning his lips downward. “Key hyung won over Onew hyung at the party. You lost the bet. You promised.”

In a battle between Renjun’s stubbornness and Jaemin’s pouting, the winner is anyone’s guess. This time, Jaemin wins, and gives a happy little shout as Renjun relents.

“Fine. Only because I promised, ‘cause I still maintain you should have to be present to win. You get ten minutes of this, and then I’m done. Give me the damn shoes.”

Jeno doesn’t have the courage to leave where he’s standing, but he picks up the soft, leaf-green slippers from the bed, careful of the delicate white puffs on the toes, and carefully tosses them to Renjun, who only catches one. Meanwhile, Jaemin looks critically at Renjun’s hair.

“I think it’s long enough,” he states.

Renjun narrows his eyes, looking at him with suspicion. “For what?”

“To put in a little bun. I mean, really little, the absolute tiniest of buns.”

“You’re _not_ touching my hair.”

“Ten minutes, Injunnie. Let me have this fantasy in full for just ten minutes.”

Having already lost once, Renjun can’t say no to this additional request, and just huffs as he drops into the chair and reaches for his other slipper, pulling the dainty items onto his feet over the stockings. Jaemin slips behind the chair and finds a rubber band on the desk, sliding it onto his wrist before reaching for Renjun’s hair, gathering the dyed-blond strands into a cluster. He doesn’t really know how to make an actual bun, as such, but as Jeno watches he manages to sweep enough of it into a messy, arguably round shape and tie it in place on the crown of Renjun’s head. The stray bits he attempts to smooth out, taking some of Donghyuck’s hair pins from the desk and using them to his best guess.

“There,” he declares, giving the ‘bun’ a gentle pat, “now you’re ready.”

“Wrong. There’s no being ready to be tortured like this. Ten minutes starts now, so take it in, weirdos.”

As Renjun sets a timer on his phone, Jaemin returns to Jeno’s side, and they look nearly the same picture as just minutes before: Jaemin grins unabashedly, Jeno blushes.

“How is this possible. You look exactly like Tinkerbell.”

Pulling out his phone, Jaemin agrees, nodding eagerly. “I knew he would. Ever since that Peter Pan costume. Not a bad look at all, but this is so much better.”

“I want you to know. Seriously. I hate you guys,” growls Renjun. He’s careful to keep his legs tightly crossed in the short skirt, though the stockings are already uncomfortable. The sweetheart neckline at the top of the tiny dress seems to dip lower if he tries to cross his arms, so he keeps his hands in his lap instead, and glares at the floor.

Jaemin giggles. “Whatever. You’re enchanting like this. God, I’ve never seen anything this cute. Jisung is dead to me now.” He snaps a picture or seven on his phone, eyes sparkling.

Despite his fury, an embarrassed blush still crosses onto Renjun’s cheekbones, and his shoulders turn inward. “I really doubt that,” he whispers, uncharacteristically un-confident.

“No, he’s right,” Jeno confirms, still tense but always honest. He hesitates, then asks, “Junnie…can you...can you stand up? Or sit on the desk instead?”

“Oh my god, yes, please!” Jaemin hurries to agree, looking at Jeno like he’s a genius. “The chair’s really not a good backdrop. I need this picture to be perfect so it can last forever.”

Renjun’s blush deepens, and he rises delicately from the seat, nudging the rolling chair aside with his hip so it glides away. “Happy?”

Standing, it’s much easier to tell what the costume is, the jagged edges of the dress’s skirt and fresh, floral green color making it obvious. The fabric sparkles subtly with just a hint of in-woven glitter, and although it’s technically not a boy’s costume, it fits Renjun’s slim frame snugly and even suggests the illusion of some hips. The wings of course, are the defining touch. 

Jeno nods, hand once again over his mouth, like he can hide behind it. Jaemin’s smile turns open-mouthed.

“I’m fucking ecstatic. Elated. Dare I say, triumphant? I could cry.”

“If you cry I will punch you in the face.”

Jaemin laughs. “That’s such a Tinkerbell thing to say.”

“I’m serious, Jaemin.”

“She would be, too.”

“Four minutes.”

Mocking a photo-shoot, Jaemin shifts around the room, changing his angle and snapping pictures repeatedly, aware of the time ticking away. “Can you do like a little flying pose? Y’know, stick your hands out and stand on your toes?”

The suggestion makes Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up, and he coughs.

“No,” says Renjun.

“Please. It’ll be so cute.”

“I know. No.”

“Really, your legs will look even longer, and if you arch your back a little--”

“Jaemin.”

“Not like slutty, just a teeny bit. You already look sexy enough to make Jeno shut down so we don’t need to push it. I’m just looking for a hint of character, that magic, a bit of the pixie dust--”

Turning on his heel to face Jaemin completely, Renjun balls his hands into fists at his sides, shoulders tensing and a glare furrowing his brow. The pure energy of his fury pulls him off his heels just a hair and makes his wrists bend, turning his knuckles out...

“Shut up!” he demands, just as Jaemin snaps another picture.

“Oh...my god.” Jaemin utters, awed. “Jeno you have to see this. It’s perfect.”

Horror fills Renjun’s face as Jeno moves to look over Jaemin’s shoulder, realizing he’s played right into Jaemin’s hands, as usual.

Jeno’s eyes widen comically as he looks up from the screen.

“Injunbell…” he says reverently, absent of humor. As though Renjun has transformed completely, perfectly mimicking the cartoon fairy’s angry posture.

The name stuns Renjun to silence, his mouth simply open in wordless disbelief. Of all the people to betray him like this, he expected Jaemin, but not Jeno.

In their shared moment of speechless wonder, Renjun’s worst fear comes to fruition as the door suddenly opens.

“Hey, guys, can--” Mark pauses halfway in the door, eyes flicking swiftly between the three of them. He blinks. “Nevermind. I don’t wanna know.”

As Mark leaves, another arm squeezes past him and keeps the door open while Renjun scrambles for anything to hide behind, of which there is none except his friends. And he refuses to go near Jaemin.

Donghyuck leans in the doorway, eyes bright with delight. “Oh _wow_. I wondered what you were up to...real cute, Junnie.”

With a strangled shout, Renjun throws himself at the door and shoves Donghyuck out, slamming the door after him.

“I want the pictures, Jaemin!” Donghyuck calls from outside, hitting a fist against the wood twice.

“No problem!” Jaemin calls back.

The timer on Renjun’s phone goes off at that moment. With the speed of an actual fairy, Renjun flies across the room, snatching up sweats and a hoodie as he disappears into the attached bathroom before Jeno or Jaemin can so much as blink.

Jeno mouths, “I think he’s mad,” to Jaemin, who just shrugs in return, clearly not concerned about it, and grins back at the pictures on his phone.

A minute later the bathroom door slams open again, and Renjun stalks out, devoid of costume but still full of compact rage.

“Dead. Dead,” he declares, pointing a threatening finger at each of them in turn. The once-again regularly dressed boy doesn’t wait for them to respond before abruptly exiting the room, landing a sharp punch on Jaemin's bicep as he passes and leaving them both in his wake.

“Well,” Jaemin sighs, rubbing his arm, “it was magical while it lasted. At least I have these, forever. I’m gonna frame this one.”

Jeno’s shoulders relax for the first time in the past twenty minutes. “I don’t think I’m gonna sleep tonight.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You will, and you’ll dream of beautiful Chinese fairy boys.”

“Oh, god.”

“Haha. Come on, I want a snack,” Jaemin pats Jeno’s elbow and leads him out of the room, angling them toward the kitchen. They pass through the living room, where Renjun has barricaded himself into a corner of the couch behind a wall of pillows, and glowers at them as they walk by. Donghyuck sits on the opposite end of the couch, pretending to look at his phone but snickering conspicuously. Jaemin gives Renjun a friendly wave, ignoring the middle finger response as they enter the kitchen, where Mark spares them a glance only to shake his head and go back to staring into the mostly bare fridge.

Jeno taps Jaemin’s arm, and whispers, “His hair...it’s still in the bun.”

The grin Jaemin wears could make devils cry. “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just. Just picture it. Isn't it wonderful. Isn't it perfect.  
> I can't wait for your comments, please scream with me.  
> Edit:: comment below with costume suggestions for NoRenMin and I may just write similar shorts for those too...I mean. Injun promised he’d get them back, didn’t he?? ;)))))
> 
> now you can also yell at me at my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ImJaeBabie)


	2. Renjun's Revenge..un.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @prettyboykook so is this it chief

Renjun plans it carefully. Spurred on by the framed photo that sits perpetually on Jaemin’s windowsill, on constant display--Renjun disposed of it once, only for it to reappear the next day a size larger. “Nice try,” Jaemin had said, casually at breakfast, “but there’s more where that came from.”--Renjun bides his time and makes absolutely certain he’ll have things exactly as he wants them. It’s unfortunate that Jeno be caught up in all of this, yes, but he should know better when Jaemin plays dirty like that...Renjun’s going to give it right back.

He makes sure it’s a bet he can’t lose.

“Taeyong hyung isn’t going to let Doyoung hyung do his hair for an actual performance,” Jaemin scoffs, eyes trained on his phone.

Jeno agrees. “I love hyung, but even I don’t trust him that much.”

Renjun keeps his smile relaxed. “Wanna bet?”

Finding what he wants online isn’t difficult either, although guessing sizes is a little challenging. Perhaps he asks one of the stylists for their measurements, citing the purchasing of Christmas gifts as his reason. Perhaps the gift is only for himself. Regardless, the second challenge is getting the packages inside the dorm without anyone noticing, and then finding an opportunity to make use of them. He doesn’t want another instance of Mark and Donghyuck encountering them again; Mark doesn’t deserve the trauma, and Donghyuck isn’t on Renjun’s side...like ever. The dongsaengs also need to be spared, and so Renjun waits until the kids are filming something with slime and the unit-hoppers are called out by 127.

He figures he has an hour...he really only needs half that, ten minutes specifically, with some prep time.

“Good, you’re not busy,” Renjun observes when he’s ready, seeking out the two on the couch. Jeno, mid-way through a level of a game on his phone, huffs a laugh from where his head is propped comfortably on Jaemin’s thigh, above which the other continues to shuffle through his English flashcards.

Jaemin shoots a skeptical look back at him. “Yeah, clearly...I’m least busy when I’m holding something in my hands and actively engaging with it.” He waves his flashcards, forcing Jeno to angle his head around so he can still see his game.

“I knew you’d agree. It’s time to pay up.”

Immediately, Jeno pauses. Just because he’s generally quieter doesn’t mean he can’t recognize Renjun’s most threatening tone when he hears it.

“Pay up for what?”

“The bet you lost.”

Jeno pales. “I didn’t--”

Renjun’s ready. He whips out his phone, already open to the post of Doyoung fluttering around primping at Taeyong’s hair. “You did.”

Jaemin’s eye roll pairs with a deep sigh, his hands already straightening flashcards into a neat stack, patting the edges so none stick out at weird angles.

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” he suggests, looking weary but complying over all with more ease on Renjun’s part than anticipated. Jaemin bounces his knee, forcing Jeno to roll off the couch onto his feet. Renjun beckons them to follow, heading down the hall and opening a door. He gestures Jaemin inside, stopping Jeno with a hand on his chest when he tries to enter as well.

“No, you’re over here,” he corrects, trying to move him away. From behind him there’s a sharp gasp of surprise and a tiny ‘oh my god’ from Jaemin. Jeno tries to crane his neck around Renjun to see.

“What, what is it??” he begs, but Renjun closes the door. 

He takes Jeno’s arm, half-dragging him back to the other room he’s prepared, and makes sure to close that door behind him. He can tell Jeno’s apprehension is building to a tipping point, his shoulders high and tense.

“In the bathroom,” Renjun instructs, pushing his friend from behind. At the threshold Jeno balks, bracing his hands against the doorframe as he sees what’s hanging up on the shower rod inside.

Jeno turns back to Renjun, eyes pleading. “No,” he shakes his head, “no, please.”

Renjun’s smile comes easily. “Why? It’ll only be for ten minutes.”

For a moment Jeno’s stunned, as if he’s managed to forget why this is happening to him. The brief moment of weakness lasts just long enough for Renjun to force him inside and pull the door shut.

“Come out dressed or don’t come out,” he orders, relishing the despondent moan he receives in response.

While he waits, Renjun amuses himself on his phone. He flips through the photo filters, planning in advance which ones he wants to use, imagining what lighting is going to be best suited to his purposes. Then he flips open his messages, selecting the group chat where Jaemin attached all the pictures from his first attack. The responses were mixed.

  * _Why did you send these!!!! Na Jaemin!!!_ From Mark, later quite upset.
  * _Hyung...is this photoshop?_ From Jisung, with every confused emoji.
  * _I’m...weeping? I’m in love. Marry me._ From Donghyuck, followed by many hearts.
  * _Lmao yikes hyung what bet did you lose?_ From Chenle, laughing.
  * _Delete me from this gc immediately and bring me some bleach. I want to die._ From a distressed Kun.



The responses stoke the flames of Renjun’s revenge, making him impatient for them to hurry up even as he scrolls back and looks at the photos again. The shimmering green, the sparkling wings, the slippers and hair...he shudders. But he taps one of the pictures and zooms in anyway, one where Jaemin caught him before he was angry, still trying to bear through it, looking a little hesitant and even...coy? Maybe. Maybe Renjun dwells on the picture for a minute, remembering how it felt. Maybe it’s not the first time he has.

He shakes himself, closing the picture. That’s long enough, it’s time for his vindication, and Jeno is too quiet. Renjun crosses to stand next to the door.

“Lee Jeno, it does not take that long to put a skirt on. Get out here.”

There’s just a groan in reply, then the defeated thump of a forehead, Renjun assumes, against the door.

“Junnie...please...I’ll buy you lunch for a week…” Jeno whines, his voice close from the other side of the wood.

Renjun smirks, leaning against the door with his shoulder and sighing. “Unfortunately the exchange rate of my revenge doesn’t allow for substitutions. Did you put the shirt on?”

“Bold to call this a shirt,” mutters Jeno.

“I’ll take that as a yes...stockings?”

“I am literally begging you. I’m sorry we did this to you first. I was wrong. Please forgive me of my wrongdoings, kind sir, and let me free.”

“Apology accepted. Put them on.”

The muttered cursing and shuffling around from inside tells Renjun he’s nearly won, and he laughs to himself in delight.

The joy lasts for about twelve seconds.

“Y’know, I’ve never doubted your taste,” comes a smooth, eerily calm voice from behind Renjun, “but I did think you knew me a little better.”

The discomfiting heat of an unexpected error crawls up Renjun’s back, hot prickles like a hellish spider across his skin as Renjun turns toward the bed with aching slowness.

He tries to remain calm. He can’t. He swallows dryly.

Jaemin is sitting, no, _reclining_ on the bed, and Renjun has no idea how long he’s been there. Jaemin should be embarrassed. He should be shuffling with unease, self-conscious and awkward--like Renjun was, like he imagined. Like he wanted.

Jaemin is not. Instead, he’s cooler than the cat who caught the canary, looking perfectly satisfied with his long, slim legs dangling over the edge of the bed as he leans back on his elbows, head tilted back from his shoulders and angled towards Renjun. The hint of his smile is so thin, so teasing, Renjun almost doesn’t register it. He can hardly focus away from the outfit Jaemin’s wearing, the outfit _he_ forced him into...the outfit Jaemin put on far too willingly.

Oh.

Oh shit. He did it _again._

Leaning his entire back against the bathroom door for support, Renjun wonders when he’ll stop playing right into Jaemin’s hands, every time.

Because he doesn’t look silly and goofy. He looks stunning.

Like some kind of perfectly designed renaissance painting, his bunny-shaped house slippers guide the eye right to the red fishnet hose that hug up from his ankles, the thin pattern dizzying even as it disappears under the frayed edges of the dark-wash, jean miniskirt that’s settled high on his thighs. A skirt there isn’t enough of, which should be humiliating, but instead just leaves plenty of room for Jaemin to show off his perfectly golden stomach, absent of any remaining childish pudge, but displaying a cute belly-button and just the hint of toned abdominal lines. Renjun sorely regrets pairing this with the baby pink crop top, wishing he’d chosen literally anything that was longer so he wouldn’t feel so directly oppressed in this moment, but he’s done himself in already and there’s no escape.

It occurs to him now that the words “Baby Girl” in bright red, English lettering across the top’s chest may have not been his best choice. They don’t strike him quite as funny when Jaemin has that look in his eyes, nor does Renjun appreciate that he’s somehow found a black choker to wear on top of it all.

“You’re a fiend and devil,” he breathes, unable to pretend he’s still winning this game.

“There are simpler ways to call me hot,” Jaemin shoots back, his following grin just shy of manic.

Renjun realizes his face _does_ feel hot, actually all of him does, and he’s desperately trying to figure a way out of this when the bathroom doorknob at his back turns and he stumbles forward, forgetting entirely that Jeno was still inside.

He steps out, hesitant, and Renjun wants to cry.

“I feel objectified,” Jeno states, shuffling uneasily.

That may be, but it’s Renjun who feels attacked for the second time that afternoon, asking all higher powers available how he managed not to think that maybe, just possibly, they might actually look so breathtakingly phenomenal in these outfits that he would be once again the one at a loss.

Jeno doesn’t wear the clothes with the same confidence Jaemin does, which isn’t even a relief, since his shy shifting from foot to foot only makes him cuter. The pattern on his fishnets differs slightly from Jaemin’s, their color black to match the miniskirt and equally cropped top. Jaemin coos appreciatively, but Renjun’s mind only chants the word _regret regret regret_ endlessly as he fixates on the tight top, specifically the criss-cross stomach feature that only highlights Jeno’s blatant abs and the string straps that leave his strong shoulders bare.

Renjun isn’t sure when he made it all the way to the corner of the room opposite them both, but his back hits the wall and he shudders. This was not the plan. This was not supposed to happen.

Jaemin throws his head back and sighs in exasperation, which Renjun knows is all an act.

“Well are you going to take pictures or not? I didn’t put on eyeliner for no reason did I?”

Jeno blinks, finally looking at Jaemin himself, and freezing. “You...put on eyeliner?” He at least looks stressed out by Jaemin too, which vindicates Renjun only slightly.

“I live my best life,” replies Jaemin, and wiggles his shoulders seductively.

Renjun takes a deep breath. “You know what, on second thought, let’s cancel all of it. There’s really no need.”

“Oh no, no no. A bet is a _bet_ , dear Junnie. And we lost.” The tone Jaemin speaks with is painfully victorious, his grin Cheshire as he pushes up from his elbows and stands, taking a moment to stretch his arms. Because he’s an infuriating human being, when he gets like this, and it’s such an insult that most everyone only sees him as cute and sweet.

He grabs Renjun’s phone from where he left it on the bedspread earlier and tosses it to him, which Renjun barely catches, then bafflingly heads for the door.

“Come on, Junnie, pictures for ten minutes. Jeno, let’s go.”

“Where…?” Jeno questions, following all the same as Jaemin exists the room and turns down the hall. Renjun scrambles after, terrified to lose sight of them lest Jaemin walk straight outside.

“No one is here, you think we’re going to suffer through the worst lighting? This is much better,” he declares, hands resting authoritatively on his exposed waist as he stops in front of the couch, the overhead fluorescent turned off in favor of softer lamp-lighting. “Injun, over there is where you’ll get the best angle.”

Renjun just shakes his head. Their images are already burned into his mind, he can’t imagine having photographic evidence as well.

Jaemin’s mouth twists into a pout and, while Jeno waits awkwardly, he pushes Renjun to the right spot and holds him by the shoulder, one hand rising up to grip his chin.

“Listen, revenge master. I look sexy as hell. And I want a picture of that. I think you do too, even if you’re denying it--”

“I do not. I don’t.”

“--yes you do. Now my phone is timed for ten minutes, just like you wanted. Get your camera.”

And what is Renjun going to do? Say no?

Well, he could. But the phone is warm in his hands and in the back of his mind he imagines being able to look back on this later, when it’s not overwhelmingly in his face, and appreciate the sight from a less stressful position. And yes...he does want a picture.

With a deep breath, Renjun opens the camera and lets it adjust to the lighting, preparing to shoot.

“Oh, wait, one last thing,” says Jaemin, making Renjun pause, and then he reaches into his pocket, the movement lifting the crop top a little higher. Renjun glances away, and when he looks back, Jaemin has fastened a sparkling barrette into his hair, setting part of it aside and making him look almost indistinguishable from any girl with a pixie haircut.

“I fucking hate you,” seethes Renjun, his revenge utterly shattered.

Jaemin winks. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

“Please take the picture before I find some bleach to drink,” whines Jeno.

Renjun does, and he doesn’t fuss about it like Jaemin had, just changes his angle occasionally and allows Jaemin and Jeno to pose how they like. Mercifully, Jaemin keeps his poses mostly safe-for-work, and coaxes Jeno into a few good angles too despite his bashful tendencies.

There’s only two minutes left on the timer when, like fate, the front door swings wide open. Inexplicably, Jaemin grins even wider, like he knew that would happen, though all the color drains from Jeno’s face in an instant.

In walks Mark first, just like the time before, except now with hands full of convenience store bags. He takes one look around the room, then turns and walks right back out.

Donghyuck does, naturally, the opposite. With a shriek, he drops his own bags and kicks off his shoes, lunging, oddly enough, for Jeno.

“Holy _shit_ you look fine!” he shouts, as Jeno dives into the couch and cowers there, trying to hide as much of himself as possible while Donghyuck kneels next to him, having brushed past both Renjun and Jaemin to reach there. “Can I please have your number? I am so serious, you are the sexiest person alive. Please give it to me. Lee Jeno. Please? Oh my god.”

Jaemin is meanwhile a mess of giggles, clearly approving of the theatrics currently torturing his best friend, while Renjun just stops the chiming timer and sinks onto the floor in defeat. A second later Jaemin joins him, snuggling up to his side and bending longer, fishnet covered legs over Renjun’s knee.

Maybe he’ll get lucky, and death is close behind. Maybe Mark will just set the apartment on fire and put them all out of their misery. Jisung and Chenle deserve more.

“Got your revenge now, Injunnie?” Jaemin murmurs into his ear, breath tickling him while Jaemin’s long arms encircle his torso.

A text from Mark pops up on Renjun’s phone:

_Blocking the door for JS and CL. Let me know when u r done with ur bullshit._

Renjun hangs his head. Even with his eyes closed, all he can see are crop tops and miniskirts, and an excess of smooth tanned skin.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m done.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I owe Jeno something after this. Don't know what tho. He's really suffered.

**Author's Note:**

> now you can also yell at me at my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ImJaeBabie)


End file.
